Love at First Date (8 page)

“That was Henry, right?”

I stopped in my tracks. “How do you know his name?”

She held up the brochure, complete with a photo of the artist, as tears filled her eyes. “I’m sorry I gave you a hard time earlier. You’re my little girl and I didn’t want you to get hurt. But, I think you should trust your instincts on this one.”

My jaw dropped. “Who are you and what have you done with my mom?”

She gave a short laugh, then wiped a tear that slipped down her cheek. “I’ve made my share of mistakes with men. Believe me, I don’t think I have all the answers.” Her voice filled with emotion. “I was just trying to look out for you.”

“I know, Mom.” Overwhelmed by her sudden (and strange) change of heart, I put my arm around her and gave her a side hug. “I’m sorry for what I said on the phone about you and Robert. You both seem really happy together.”

She kissed me on the cheek. “It’s about time for me, isn’t it? I’m sure it’ll be that way for you, too.”

I spotted Henry and Jennifer across the room. “Definitely not any time soon.”

Not with Jennifer Cooke around. She was clearly the better match for him. In addition to being confident and beautiful, she and Henry shared passion for the art world. I, on the other hand, had taken art history pass/fail so it wouldn’t ruin my GPA.

“Oh, Ellen.” My mom squeezed me around the waist. “He’s not interested in her.”

“Are you not seeing what I’m seeing? That’s the owner of the art gallery, Mom.” I gestured toward where they were having a serious discussion. Jennifer had her arm around him, yet again. “Face it, she’s way better suited for him. I can’t even tell a Monet from a Sisley. Well, not unless there’s a water lily involved.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s just business,” she said, dismissively.

This was getting scary. My very practical mom had sudden faith in Henry? An artist? Not exactly the stable career choice she’d normally opt for. Although a lot of his paintings did have a SOLD card placed over the title. I was about to ask Mom about her new attitude when Jennifer detached herself from Henry and strode off toward the front of the room. At the same time my mom told me she needed to go check on something.

Out of nowhere, a face appeared in front of me. “Ellen.”

I jumped back. “Rachel! Where have you been?”

“Major emergency.” She held up her cell phone. “Gina finally broke up with George. She needs me to come over pronto. I want to bring over champagne and celebrate, but obviously she’s not there yet.”

“No, I’d wait on that one.” I sighed. “Guess my mom can take me home. Another love bites the dust.”

“Yeah, but we knew their days were numbered.” She gave me a concerned look. “Oh, wait. Did you mean Gina or you? What’s wrong? Why aren’t you with Henry?”

“The owner of the art gallery, that’s why.” A waiter strode by and swapped my empty champagne glass for a new one. “Henry’s the artist she’s showcasing tonight and judging by her actions, she’d like to showcase more than his paintings.”

Rach threw her head back and laughed. “That’s a good one.”

Not the sympathetic response I’d expected. “Are you laughing at my misery?”

“Oh, please.” She fiddled in her purse for her keys, then adjusted the strap on her shoulder. “First, you thought he was after Abby-what’s-her-name. Now, he’s after the art gallery owner? Stake your claim and get on with it.”

I pointed across the room. “You saw her hanging on him.”

“Yeah, I saw
her
when I should be seeing
you
.” She glanced behind me. “He’s directly across the room, talking to some guy, so stop making excuses and go for it.”

My pulse rate picked up. “How?”

“Show me less jealousy and more action.” Her voice held an edge of ‘duh’ to it. “I’ll tell Gina you’re thinking of her. Bye.”

My eyes narrowed at her as she slinked out the door. Mostly because she was right. I knew it was time to face my fears. I downed my champagne, set the empty glass on a table, and headed toward Henry.

****

My heels clicked across the gallery’s hardwood floor and my heart pounded in my ears. I’d confront Henry, once and for all, and nothing would stop me this time.

“Ellen!” a female voice cheered.

I flipped my head around to see our perky blonde dog obedience instructor. “Abby?”

She bounced over and threw her arms around me. “We missed you yesterday, but Rachel’s such a sweetie, too.”

I peered around Abby, but couldn’t see where Henry had gone. “I heard Chester learned a special talent.”

“It was fabulous. That cute snickerdoodle will do anything for a treat. And you probably already know that Kenzie learned how to shake. Sweet angel put her paw right in my hand. Exciting progress, huh?”

“Yes.” My heart warmed that Kenzie was learning to trust people. But why would Abby assume I knew about Henry’s dog?

“Come.” She led me over to a group of people I recognized from the Simply Skilled class: the elderly woman who owned the poodle, the mom with the outspoken boy, the young guy with the bulldog, and a few more. “Look who I found, everyone.”

We exchanged cheerful greetings and it made me nostalgic for doggy class, Kenzie, and even crazy Chester. Abby latched onto the arm of a very handsome man who smiled down at her. Okay, maybe I’d jumped to conclusions when it came to Abby. But, I still didn’t feel secure about Jennifer Cooke.

Abby’s eyes shot just above my shoulder and she waved. “Henry! Thanks so much for inviting us to see your amazing work. Especially the—”

“Thank you all for coming,” he said.

His shoulder brushed mine as he came up next to me. Everyone started giving us looks and I wondered if they knew something I didn’t. Maybe I could get them to signal with a thumbs up or down?

Henry’s hand wrapped gently around my elbow. “Would you excuse us?” he said to the others.

They murmured affirmative remarks and before I knew it, Henry and I were walking away from the group and toward the left side of the gallery, which seemed to be a quieter area.

Finally, he stopped and faced with me an apologetic look. “Sorry about the interruption earlier. Jennifer had a business question she needed to ask me.”

Time to jump. “Why didn’t you ever tell me you’re an artist?”

His facial expression changed. “Well, because it’s only recently that I’ve actually made a living at it.”

My mouth twisted. “Why would that matter?”

He hesitated a moment. “When I found that pen, you told me you were really into
Detailed Dating
. . .”

Was I mistaken or did he look nervous? “So?”

His gray eyes flooded with emotion “I looked up your profile online.”

Oh, man. I’d laid out in detail exactly what would and wouldn’t work for me in a relationship. No exceptions allowed and an artist probably wouldn’t have made the cut. “You, uh, did?”

“Hard as that is to admit, yes.” His gaze stayed on mine. “Everything in your profile told me you’re organized, know what you want, and, to be honest, it seemed like an artist would rank low on your professional stability requirement.”

Oh, man. Why did I have to be so anal? “But that was before I met you.”

His shoulders relaxed. “So you might be willing to take a chance on an artist who has never tried online dating, never filled out a compatibility profile, and is hoping he never will?”

I wouldn’t know the answer to his question until he revealed the mystery behind the dark circles under his eyes all week. “Is this why you were so tired in class? Because you were preparing for this show?”

He paused way too long. “Yes. I’d spent all night painting and well . . . it was important to me. That particular painting in particular, I mean.”

What was he holding back? “Are you and the owner of the art gallery . . . dating?”

His gray eyes widened. “You mean Jennifer and me?

“Yes.” My cheeks heated as I braced myself for his answer.

“No.” He shook his head and his forehead wrinkled. “Why would you think that?”

Oh, this was awkward. “She seems really into you.”

“Well, I don’t know about that, but there is no way she thinks
I’m
interested in
her
.”

Now we were getting down to business. “Why not?”

He waited, his gaze intent on mine. “She just wouldn’t think that. Trust me.”

“How come you avoid answering my questions? Like when you showed up to All Things Furry looking exhausted and mentioned you’d been talking to Abby Wilson after class. When I asked what you’d been doing the night before, I couldn’t get a straight answer out of you. So, I assumed . . . ”

His brows came together as he put two and two together, then his eyes bulged. “You thought Abby and I . . . ?”

I pictured Abby and her hot date. Yeah, I’d been off the mark on that one. Still . . . “Well, how should I know? You were obviously hiding something.”

His face sobered. “I was. But not what you think.”

Wow. I couldn’t believe he’d finally admitted it! “Well? Aren’t you going to tell me what you’d really been doing?”

“No.” His face turned serious. “I’m going to show you.”

He slipped his hand in mine, causing tingles to wander up my arm as he led me to the opposite corner of room. We squeezed by various people—some who were talking and others who were gazing appreciatively at the art around them—and I couldn’t stop wondering what he’d been doing to cause those deep circles under his eyes.

In the very back of the room, we stopped in front of a painting . . . of me! It was entitled “Love At First Glance” and my breath caught. He’d captured my expression perfectly—it was the same first look I’d gone over a million times in my own mind, only from his viewpoint.

The painting focused on the woman’s green eyes with brown flecks,
my
eyes, and the appreciative look I’d given Henry when he’d offered to rescue my friend’s dog.

Tears blurred my vision as I stared at the painting. All this time I’d wondered what had caused those dark circles under his eyes. It had been the hours he’d spent picturing me in his mind,
painting
me. And all that time, I’d been thinking of him, too.

“Well?” He nudged my shoulder a little while still holding my hand. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

My mouth opened, then quickly closed. What was that yellow card above the title? My head whipped around and I frowned up at him, accusingly. “The card above the title says
SOLD
.”

He reached out to smooth my hair back from my face. “That’s what Jennifer had to talk to me about earlier. It wasn’t for sale and a woman insisted that she be allowed to buy it. Since she was someone I need to win over, I couldn’t say no.”

My mouth dropped open. First Abby, then Jennifer, and now another mystery woman? “Who would you sell my painting to in order to win her over?” But inside, I already knew.

He looked as if he were trying to hold in a laugh. “Your mother.”

My lips twitched at the confirmation I’d been right. Even though we had our issues, I sure did love my mom. “She can be a little overbearing at times.”

“Good to know.” He tucked my hair behind my ear, brushed his lips past my cheek, then whispered. “She promised to let us come over any time to visit it.”

Ha! So that’s why my mom had been so sure about Henry. She’d seen the painting. Anyone who saw it would know how much time, love and care had gone into each brush stroke. Even Jennifer Cooke. No wonder she’d given me a weird look when we met. She’d recognized me.

I tore my eyes from the painting, gazed up at Henry, and melted against him. “Henry?”

He played with my hair as his deep gray eyes met mine. “Yes?”

“You do realize you’re going to have to ask me out, right?” I moistened my lips. “How can it be love at first glance when we’ve only attended doggy class together?”

He leaned his forehead against mine. “Every time I’m with you feels like a date.”

I leaned close to his ear. “If that’s the case, this makes number four.”

His face took on a serious quality. “I’m going to ask you to marry me. Very soon.”

My heart pounded in my chest. “I’m going to say yes.”

His mouth crept into a small smile. “For now, I’m going to kiss you.”

“It’s about time.” His lips pressed against my cheek again, heat igniting against my skin, and my shoulder curled in as I savored the feeling. “I was afraid I’d have to attend more doggy school before you ever made your move.”

Finally, our mouths came together, and a blissful feeling settled over me. After all the hard work I’d gone through trying to find love, it had found me instead. No sooner than we’d started our second kiss, when clapping erupted around us. We pulled back slowly and turned around to face a crowd.

Abby Wilson, standing front and center, whistled with two fingers in her mouth. The elderly woman winked knowingly at me. My mom stood next to Robert, teary-eyed and with a hand over her heart. Although I’d thought I should go with the safe and screened choices, my heart had told me to give this guy a chance. And I’m glad I did.